


There's nothing wrong with me

by CrashCityCentral



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrashCityCentral/pseuds/CrashCityCentral
Summary: Dick Grayson survived the fall and death of the Flying Graysons when his parents sacrificed their bodies to cushion his. In return, he gave up his legs.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hal Jordan (mentioned) - Relationship, Bart Allen/Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle (mentioned), Dick Grayson/Wally West, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	There's nothing wrong with me

The lights all seemed to be pointing at him with an intensity that blinded him with a pounding headache. The pain while he coiled on the ground making it hard to move. There was ringing all around and white noise, muffling the screams of terrified civilians and Police sirens. Two figures below him, coated in a thick goop with a strange metallic scent. 

“Mama.” He dug his fingers into the dirt ground of the ring, clawing his body forward, inching to the blurry shapes of two bodies impossibly slow. It was too hard to move. Too hard to breathe. “Tati.” He called again, with every word making his breath thinner and he heaved. Dragging forward again, only to lose consciousness for a few seconds that might have well been an eternity, he was finally able to make out the uniform colors of blue and white. It was strange, however. He didn’t remember the red in their suit. Tears leaked from his eyes from something he knew but couldn’t remember. Why was he here? Why was everyone screaming? Why wasn’t his parent’s answering his calls? And why can’t he move his legs? 

Hands moved all around him, moving him, touching him, but he couldn't find It in him to care. He focused on keeping his head up, trying not to close his eyes like his body so desperately craved. He wanted his mama and Tati. Why couldn't he get to them. His body was turned so he was no longer on his chest and a wave of nausia hit him in tidal waves from the motion. His head rolled around, eyes slowly closing to block the lights out. There were so many blurry faces in blue suits surrounding him. One moment he was on the ground and the other he was lifted on a bed with wheels. He tried to move. He tried to turn so he could see his parents. He couldn't. It was too hard. There was a gentle touch to his arm and someone was mumbling soothing words to him. He could barely hear or distinguish anything, but it reminded him of when his papa was comforting him when there was a scary jump. The words 'Tati' barely formed on his lips and he felt safe. He knew he could sleep now. He closed his eyes.  
__________________________________________________

“Vicki Vale, reporting live from Wayne Enterprises Conference concerning the recent announcement that Bruce Wayne has taken in a ward; 8-year-old Dick Grayson, just coming out of the hospital now after suffering fatal injuries the night of Haly's Circus. The question everybody’s asking is if this is another Charity case to sympathize with the man in charge, or is it…”

The TV was promptly turned off and the color died out to a dull black that mirrored the dull eyes watching it back. “You don’t need to listen to that,” Bruce said, patting down his newly found Son’s hair. 

“She’s mean,” Dick said monotone. His words for the past month after Bruce took him in always sound clear, even with his accent, but they came from a dark emptiness that was inside the young boy. None of his sentiments quite reached his eyes except when he was crying. 

Bruce kneeled down to the boy, hugging his small frame carefully to his chest, wary of his legs. Dick made no effort to move his arms, but he leaned his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “I know I said that we were alike back in the hospital. That we both lost our parents in horrible ways, and that we both have suffered... But I didn’t go through what you are; in my opinion, your situation is far worse.” Bruce let his ward go only to cup his face in his big hands. “But I promise you, we will make this better. You will get better.” He glanced at the wheelchair that Dick was sitting in. He had to tear his eyes away. “Things will get better.” He whispered again, kissing the top of Dick’s head. 

Dick had no clear emotion on his face, but the tears spilling like rivers down his cheeks said it all. “Thank you, Bruce.” he shook with a sob. Bruce held his son.


End file.
